


Love Consists In This

by EclecticMuse



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, LITERALLY, Porn with Feelings, Shower Sex, Smut, Steamy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 02:25:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15233307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticMuse/pseuds/EclecticMuse
Summary: After returning from their runaway mission to England, Fitz and Simmons find themselves needing to unwind and let off a little emotional steam. The shower ends up being a perfect place to do it.Set after 5x18 All Roads Lead...





	Love Consists In This

**Author's Note:**

> Written for anon on Tumblr, who asked for a fic where "Fitz and Simmons have a shower together, and Fitz is just so gentle and soft with her that Jemma's heart seizes with all the love she has for him, and it leads to emotional shower sex." Super specific prompt, but you know what, I decided to give it a go. Don't try this at home, kids.

_Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.  
_ \- Rainer Maria Rilke

-:-

When they finally made it back to their bunk, all Jemma could think about was a hot shower, sleep, and Fitz, and not necessarily in that order.

She didn’t want to think about the dressing-down they’d received from Daisy, the cold, hard fury on her face an unfamiliar expression directed at them. She didn’t want to think about May’s aura of disappointment, or Mack’s feelings of betrayal. She didn’t want to think about Coulson dying or Hydra’s machinations or the Earth cracking apart or any of it. All she wanted was her husband and just a few moments of peace.

Fitz eased off his jacket, his face catching in a grimace of pain as he pulled at his bruised ribs, and Jemma was at his side in an instant to help him get it off the rest of the way.

“Does it still hurt?” she asked in concern, her hands moving to lightly bracket his ribs once his jacket was thrown over the chair in the corner.

“Little bit,” Fitz muttered, rolling his head as Jemma prodded. “She packed a hell of a punch.”

Jemma didn’t really want to think about Ruby, either, who was sick and twisted and sadistic, who had hurt Fitz and Yo-Yo and threatened to kill her, but had still died a grisly death right in front of her eyes. She sighed.

“Let’s get you into the shower,” she suggested. “The water should help loosen your muscles a bit, might make you feel a little better.”

Fitz let her lead him into their little ensuite without protest, and though he gave her a bemused look when she helped him pull off his jumper and started undoing the buttons of his shirt herself, he was simply too tired to argue against it. He did, however, raise an eyebrow at her when she started taking off her own clothes, too.

“Coming in with me?” he asked, a smile tugging up the corners of his mouth.

Jemma smiled back at him. “I thought I would, yes,” she replied. “I think a shower would do us both some good.”

This time, Fitz didn’t ask if she thought they both would fit into the tiny stall; now he very well knew they could, as the morning after their wedding had proven. Instead, he just carefully bent to take off his shoes and socks and start on his trousers. Jemma finished stripping down first and pulled the tie from her hair before going to the shower to twist the taps and let the water heat up.

She felt Fitz’s hands settle on her hips and a soft tremor ran through her at the warmth of his palms on her skin. She couldn’t say it, but she _did_ want this: intimacy with him, any kind she could get. Perhaps she could have let him shower alone, but he was on her mind first and foremost, and she desired closeness with him now. They’d had such a short time to be as happy and carefree as they could be together given the circumstances before he’d had his psychic split. Then he’d been put into isolation and she’d been forced to sleep alone without him, and the ensuing jailbeak and runaway mission to England had only put him at risk again and left their relationship with the rest of the team even more strained. Things felt so fragmented and unsure around them. Jemma wanted this time alone with Fitz to reassure herself that they were still fundamentally who they’d always been at their base particles: Fitz and Simmons, in love, stronger together, never to be torn apart again.

She smiled at him again over her shoulder as she tested the water temperature with her hand, finding him looking sleepy and rumpled her. When she judged it was hot enough, she stood aside so Fitz could enter first. He murmured his thanks as he stepped in, immediately getting beneath the spray, and she got in after him, shutting the door behind her.

The stall was only just big enough for the both of them, as they’d learned, so Jemma was treated to an up-close view of Fitz’s face relaxing as the hot water poured over him. He reached up to scrub his wet hair back, cracking open an eye to look at her and smile through the steam wafting up between them.

“I think this was a good idea,” he said simply, his eyes on her soft and adoring.

A plume of contentment rose in Jemma’s chest to see him look at her so, and she wiggled her toes in the water swirling toward the drain as she slid her hands up through the water coursing over his chest to his shoulders. There, she gave them a series of gentle squeezes from his neck out to the edge and back again. “Good,” she echoed. “I thought you might thank me for it.”

Fitz rewarded her with an affectionate eyeroll before reaching out to take her hips in his hands again. “Here, switch.”

They shuffled around each other in the cramped stall until Jemma was beneath the showerhead, slicking her hair back from her face as the water soaked it down, and Fitz bent to grab the bottle of shampoo and work some product into his curls. She sighed as she watched him build up a halo of suds; it felt almost sinfully good to let the water wash away the grime of the day and ease the stress she’d been under, all while in close proximity to the man she loved--even if they were doing something as mundane as washing their hair. Yes, this had been a good idea.

They quickly traded places again so Fitz could rinse his hair and Jemma could lather hers up. She stole another moment just to watch him, eyes closed as he tilted his head back and forth under the water, and felt another knot of anxiety loosen in her chest at how calm he looked. She still had every intention of getting him good, true help as soon as they had the Earth sorted, but for now, at least, maybe his head was silent of the demons that haunted him.

When they switched one more time for Jemma to rinse, Fitz surprised her by reaching out to gently catch her wrists in his hands. “Let me,” he said quietly. She arched an eyebrow at him, but let him carefully tilt her head back into the water, slowly running his fingers through her long hair to help rinse the shampoo out.

“I like taking care of you,” he said after a moment. She opened her eyes to look at him, and he ducked his head slightly without stopping the motion of his hands through her hair. “I mean--I know you don’t need me to, you can take care of yourself. But I like knowing I can. When you let me.”

Jemma’s heart softened, even as her stomach twisted slightly with something like bittersweet sadness. She’d always known that Fitz was the more romantic of the two of them, more easily given to outward displays of affection and love from the grandiose down to the tiny, and this was an example. Sometimes she wished she was better at it, expressing how much she loved him. Especially now, when everything was so fraught and uncertain and she knew he could use the reassurance that she would always be by his side.

Her mouth quirked into a smile, and she lifted her hands to rest on his chest. “I should be taking care of you,” she said wryly. “You've had quite a day.”

“And you haven’t?” he countered, ghosting his knuckles over her cheek. “I didn’t have death blades thrown at my head.”

“Well, you--” Jemma started, but her words ran dry. It was difficult to think about, being bound to a chair while her life was threatened just to inspire Fitz to work faster, but he’d been hurt, too. She didn’t want to argue, though. They’d both had a rough time of it, honestly. What she wanted to focus on now was her husband, safe and present, and how gentle he was being with her. That last made a lump rise in her throat, humbled as she always was by the depth of his love for her.

Taking a small step toward him, she lifted her hands to cradle his face, brushing her thumbs over his cheekbones. Fitz looked down at her, a soft heat taking over his gaze, but anything he might have said was cut off by Jemma leaning up to kiss him.

It was light and searching at first, a gentle slide of their lips together as Jemma took solace in having Fitz so near. But something about the whole thing--the close quarters of the shower, the steam rising around them, the slickness of his wet skin, the care with which he kissed her back--made it all feel unbearably intimate. It ignited a warmth in Jemma’s belly that had her suddenly aching for more.

She kissed him a little more firmly, sucking on his lower lip, and Fitz’s arms came around her, his hands splayed wide over her skin as they slid down to her lower back, pulling her in against him. Her breasts pressed against his chest and the feeling of his half-hard cock caught between them made Jemma moan softly as heat flared in her veins, and she gently slanted his mouth open to deepen the kiss. The velvet slide of his tongue over hers made her shiver, craving more.

They stayed that way for what felt like an eternity, wrapped around each other as the water beat against Jemma’s back, trading increasingly heated kisses. She was beginning to feel a little dizzy with desire, wanting more of him and thinking of suggesting they finish their shower and move things elsewhere, when Fitz shifted. Suddenly he was moving them both, shuffling them around in a circle and pressing her up against the wall of the shower, his hand flat against the tile next to her head and his other briefly palming her breast before falling to grip her hip as he laid a line of hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat.

“Fitz,” Jemma sighed, sensation shooting a bolt of lust straight to her core.

“I could have lost you today,” he murmured against her neck, his words almost lost in the rush of the water behind them. His teeth scraped over her collarbone, making her breath skip. “She was going to kill you, I had no choice--”

He was still worried about that? Jemma took his face in her hands again and brought him up to kiss his lips again, hoping to reassure. “I know,” she said in between kisses. “I know. You know I’d do the same.”

“I’ll always choose you,” he insisted, a desperate tinge to his voice. He was pressing fervent kisses to her cheeks, her forehead, her jaw, her neck. “No matter what.”

She whimpered, wanting to tell him that she would too, always, but then he was kissing her again, hungry and deep, his hand coming back up to fully cup her breast. They both moaned, and Jemma wrapped her arms around his neck, wanting him even closer, needing to feel every inch of him pressed against her. His cock, fully hard now, was prodding insistently into her lower stomach, and she felt another jolt of arousal wash through her. She couldn’t wait for their bed. She needed him now, and if the way Fitz’s hands were roaming over her as he kissed her like he couldn’t bear to part from her, he felt the same way.

Jemma lifted her leg to wrap around Fitz’s hip, letting him notch in against her. He groaned against her mouth as the head of his cock pushed at her folds, and she tilted her hips as best as she could in her position to let him fully grind against her. The tease of his shaft sliding over her clit, the promise of having him buried inside of her, made her head fall back against the tile as she gasped, tightening her leg around him.

“Fitz,” she begged, feeling like she was burning up from the inside out with want for him. “Fitz, please.”

He surprised her by letting go of her breast and grabbing her arse with both hands, hiking her up against the wall with a grunt and using his weight to pin her there. Jemma let out a small squeak, but immediately wrapped both her legs around his waist, desperate to have him. It took a moment of clumsy maneuvering, their panting breaths mingling in between them, before Fitz finally caught his cock at her entrance and pushed into her with a few short, strong strokes.

Jemma moaned as he filled her, stretching her in the most perfect way, and Fitz let out a shaky breath against her cheek as his hips came flush with hers. Then he adjusted his grip on her, his fingers slipping slightly against her slick skin, and started a sharp, steady rhythm.

Her legs locked around his waist meant he couldn’t go far, but Fitz made up for the shallow depth of his thrusts with the force of them, hard and fast, and Jemma cried out again as he stroked over something delicious inside of her, shooting sparks of pleasure through her body. A dim, faraway part of her realized that he’d never had the strength for something like this before, taking her up against a wall, and figured if his double-digit push-ups had been good for anything, it was this.

“Fuck, _Jemma_ ,” he muttered harshly against her jaw, and she loved the way his fingers were clenching into her skin, his breath hot on her skin, the sound of the water falling pounding in her ears. She dug her heels into his back and canted her hips more into him, changing the angle slightly and putting more pressure on her clit, taking the pleasure she was getting from him and setting it on fire.

“Fitz, Fitz, yes, please, _yes_ ,” she gasped, holding onto him tightly. “More, _please_.”

He buried his face in her neck and sucked at her pulse point as he snapped his hips into hers even harder. Jemma hoped he wasn’t hurting himself, knowing his ribs were still tender, but any concern for that was overridden by the need to find her release. She wanted him to take her apart, to feel him come apart too inside her, to feel the evidence that he was still her Fitz and that he loved her and they were stronger together than they were apart.

She was close; she could feel it. Fitz’s arms were straining to keep her up, and she could feel her back slipping against the wet tile. Just a little more...she clutched Fitz closer and wound her fingers into his hair, raking her nails over his scalp as she moaned at the thick slide of him in and out of her, sending her higher and higher. “Jemma,” Fitz chanted, her name sounding like a prayer falling from his lips. “Jemma, Jemma, _Jemma_.”

Her orgasm hit her hard, making vision go fuzzy at the edges and her body seize up around him before dissolving into shivers as pleasure coursed through her, drawn out by his continued rocking into her. Fitz followed a minute later, his thrusts turning disjointed before he hilted inside her with a shout, his fingers digging even deeper into her skin.

Jemma panted, trying to hold onto Fitz and let them ease through the afterglow, but his hands slipped and one of her feet fell to the tiled floor of the shower, forcing him to slip out of her. Fitz caught her by the arms to steady her as she lowered her other leg, too, and pressed in to lay gentle kisses against her temple as she got her bearings again.

“I love you,” he murmured, tucking a wayward strand of wet hair behind her ear.

She turned her face into him before kissing his jaw. “I love you too,” she said, running her hands from his elbows to his shoulders and back again.

They stood that way for a long moment, until Jemma acknowledged that she needed to do something about his release leaking out of her and down her legs, and shifted past him to get back beneath the water, which had gone lukewarm. Fitz, sensing her purpose without asking, snagged the washcloth hanging on a hook behind her and wet it down before he gave it to her. It didn’t take long for her to clean herself up, and then she cut the water to the shower.

They toweled off and put on their pajamas in peaceful silence, and it was only once they were both in bed, Jemma snuggled up against Fitz’s side with her head pillowed on his shoulder, that they spoke again.

“We’ll be alright,” she said softly.

“Hmm?” Fitz was drawing aimless small patterns on her arm with his fingers.

Jemma shifted a little closer to him. “We’ll make it through this,” she clarified. “And then… we won’t have to make decisions like that anymore. We’ll be safe.”

“Right,” Fitz murmured. He knew she was talking about the decision to leave S.H.I.E.L.D.--they’d brought it up and agreed that it was time, but hadn’t sat down yet to seriously discuss it. They were waiting until they got the end of the world sorted first. Then, they could sit down and talk in earnest about what they wanted for their future: a home, a life together, a family. “But until then,” he added, “we have this.” He pressed a kiss to her hair.

“We do,” she agreed. They had moments stolen in their bunk to remind them of who they were together. For now, that would have to be enough.

Just until they solved the end of the world.

Then they could start on their happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know shower sex is hazardous to your health and isn't really all that feasible in real life. Shh, just roll with it.


End file.
